Fear for the past
by likeballet
Summary: Post HBP. Severus didn't think she would ever open this up in him and lock the doors of a loneliness that has tampered with him for too damn long.


**Summery**: Post HBP. Severus didn't think she would ever open this up in him and lock the doors of a loneliness that has tampered with him for too damn long.  
**Pairing**: HG/SS, obviously.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything you recognize. The charecters in this story are not my own, but J.K Rowlings. 1, 2, please don't sue!

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**Fear for the past.  
**

_I can be an asshole of the grandest kind. I can with-hold like it's going out of style.  
I can be the moodiest baby and you've never met anyone as negative as I am sometimes._

Severus sat up straighter in his chair, attempting to crack his back where it needed by pushing his shoulders back firmly. It did not work, just like it never had but he did it out of habit. He was in dire need of some relaxation potion. He could not sit still, and everything made him think too much. He overanalyzed everything that came upon his dark mind. He had stared death straight in the face, but some days he wonders, has he done the same to life? He's spoke so many times of people breathing but never living. He's spoke of the blindfolds people place on themselves, on each other but never did he speak, without a blindfold, himself. The last months, this past year, he's realized nothing he will say has any effect, on him. His life has never been his own, because someone else, was always more important, or something needed to be done in order for someone else to live or have information. He consistantly likes to think he has changed; he has overcome all he thought impossible, and now Severus just lays back, but nights he knows... he knows down inside, he's just the same.

There are some curves too difficult to naviagte. Words his lips will just not curve around - movements his fingertips just cannot make. And when that happens - when his heart beats frantically against the birdcage that are his ribs. When the furrow in his brow will not be smoothed by kind words, or sex. This is when he decides: take the path of least resistance, nod and accept that things will never change. Or, between the gnashing of his teeth and the scraping of his fingernails and bones - spit out the syllables that are stuck somewhere between his gut and trachea. And when it hurts, when his eyes search for any exit. Any way to backtrack, to not see that look mirrored in their face: any possible excuse one could use.

He remembers waiting for days in his dark hideout for someone to find him and tell him they knew. That it was all cleared and he could resume his freedom. Voldemort was dead, but at the price of a father figure he had loved dearly. Some still didn't understand why he did it, and they still felt tense around him as if somehow he had managed to trick Albus into thinking his death was the only way for Voldemort to be brought down. And Voldemort had indeed been brought down. By none other than the son of a prat. A kid with emerald eyes like a fair skinned Lily he had once loved, a spawn of James who still didn't realize just what he did. Severus was sure that Potter was sitting in Black Manor drinking tea and playing chess with the werewolf. Discussing the days events. And here Severus sat in a cold wooden chair, teaching children who were still naive to believe evil was diminished when a lord fell and a cocky 17 year old resumed his 'hero' title.

He knew evil was stirring in atleast one of these students who sat before him. He wondered with disgust if that person would ever, could ever, do what Voldemort had done. Who could possibly take pride in these things? Severus watched the students carefully and noted the nervous glances on some of them as they spotted him looking. 'Thats right, fear it children. Better to know fear then to avoid it.'

As a pain shot through him when he shifted, Severus hoped Minerva remembered to get that book for him that contained the ingredients for Draught of Peace.

_I am the wisest woman you've ever met. I am the kindest soulw ith whom you've ever contected.  
I have the bravest heart that you've ever seen and you've never met anyone as positive as I am sometimes._

Hermione visited Hogwarts often, though there seemed to be a deserted feeling when she entered ever since Dumbledores death. She is sure she is not the only one who feels it. It will creep up her arms at first, her hair standing up. Slowly it makes it's way to her chest and neck, stiffening she walks on towards the Headmistresses chambers and mumbles 'pumpkin patsy' and proceeds up the rotating staircase.

She has become boarderline obsessive when it comes to Hogwarts. During the war she was forced to stay behind and help Madam Pompfry, Mrs. Weasly, and a few healers from St. Mungo's in the process of healing anybody who came back hurt. She cannot sleep at night sometimes knowing what she lost, and what she could have kept had she went with Neville, Luna and Ron when she heard the news that Harry had found out where Voldemort was. Sometimes she wakes in the night to the faces of her fallen friends. The biggest shock was Ron.

She remembers entering the room with some extra salve, seeing a large group forming around a body on the floor. She saw Luna's blond hair waving in the wind coming from the open window above her. Her wand still clutched in one hand and a set of robes in the other. She had stopped dead in her tracks when she caught a glimpse of red hair, and dropped to her knees. Everything after that had been empty and dark.

She could barely look at Fred and George without her eyes filling with tears. The same red hair. It was far too much. She stopped going to the Weaslys as much as she could. She recieved owls to her home everyday, mostly from Harry. The latest one still sat in her pocket that read:

_"Dear Hermione,_

I know you've recieved our last letters, just like I know you'll recieve and read this one. Please, we all miss you. It's hard enough losing my best friend in death, I do not wish to lose you in distance.

Harry."

She had not responded, at least not yet. It had only be 11 months, she was not ready to enter a household filed with that shocking red hair. Pictures adorned the walls with his face. They had just, a few days before, established they're relationship. He was ready, as was she. But she wasn't ready for this. She often forgot he was dead, though it pained her to realize it once she did remember. She thought that after Voldemort was defeated - the light would finally come back. But it seems the light had been taken away with everyone gone.

As Hermione entered the large office, she saw Minerva sitting with a book in one hand and the other hand rested atop her head, fixing her bun that seemed much more loose today.

"Good morning, Minerva." Hermione said, flashing her best smile she could come up with today.

"Ah, Hermione.." she said standing up, "Just whom I wished to see today. I need you to bring this book to Severus, he's been asking for the list of ingredients for a potion."  
She handed Hermione the book and shooed her off.

_I blame everyone else on my own partaking.  
My passive-agressivness can be devestating.  
_

As the class became empty, he stood up and shrugged off his robes leaving him with just his tight black jacket that buttoned up along the arms and up the chest and his tight black trousers. Feeling much taller and comfortable he walked over to the supply cupboard and opened it. Before he could contemplate what to remove there was a knock at the door.

After he granted them permission to enter, he stepped foreward and watched as the last person (besides Albus) he thought would walk through his door.

"Miss Granger, what are you doing here?" He asked, his tone solid.

"Minerva asked me to give you this.." she said handing him the open book.

"I mean, what are you doing here, at my classroom. I remember you graduating alrady." he brought the book up closer and peered at the pages.

"I visit often." she shrugged at him.

He snapped up, looking at her. Visited often? Why had he not known? And what are her reasons? She has no friends here. The last time he'd seen her was at the victory party, she sat on the farthest and darkest end of the room by herself. He'd noticed her fingers tracing shapes on a hand that was no longer beside hers. Weaslys. He'd seen her do this many times in class with him, and at the time he thought it childish. He would catch her turning sideways everynow and then, as if waiting to see someone, then frowning and turning back. He imagined how lonely drawing those shapes without the warmth of a hand under them must feel.

"Sir, may I ask why you are brewing Draught of Peace?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"What makes you think I'm brewing it? I could merely be studying it." He sneered, knowing full well he had a cauldren out and bioling ready.

"The cauldren, for one. And the fact that you could easily buy this already bottled in Diagon Ally."

"Well, you are right. I am brewing. I have always wondered however the ingrediesnts to such a potion," he said staring down at the page and noting the moonstone powder. He went back over to the supply cupboard and pulled out a canister that had the contents in it and placed them on the desk.

"So, why _are_ you brewing it, Professor?" She asked steppingfar too close for him to be comfortable.

He gritted his teeth and stared down at her. "If you must know I need it for my anxiety. My muscles are tense, and I cannot seem to relax." He signed, taking out the syrup of Hellbore.

"I can help there," she stated, moving away then coming back and pushing a seat towards him. He looked at her, then the chair. "Sit," she ordered.

He exhaled loudly and sat, his natural default setting causing him to sit up pin straight.

"Relax," she bent down, breathing on his neck. She eased his shoulders into a slight slumping position which was more comfortable but still tense. After a moment her hands rested on his shoulders, gently putting a bit of pressure on them.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his head turning sideways to try and look at her.

"It's just a massage to ease your muscles."

He let her continue, and she was glad. His shoulders radiated heat which felt nice against her cold palms. She wondered how much more hotter his bare skin would be. She pushed the thought back and worked her fingers in cirles along the top of his shoulders. After a few moments she saw his head drop to give her better access to the back of his neck. She rubbed her thumb along it and put a bit more pressure where she felt a knot. Working her way a bit lower she rubbed the spot between his shoulder blades and she heard a soft moan escape his lips. Smiling, she moved again lower to his mid back and places her palms flat against either side, moving them from side to side and in large circles. She went to move lower but a hand reached behind and grabbed her left wrist.

He was standing, towering over her. His black hair was in his face and his grip tightened and she tried moving backwards.

"I'm sor- "she started but was cut off by his other hand grabbing her right wrist. Fear was evident in her eyes, and she tried moving back again. "Please.."

"Miss Granger," Severus started, his voice deep and sensual. He titled his head up and smirked at her. "you have a way with those tiny hands."

He started walking towards her, pushing her back against the wall. 

"Professor," her voice was shakey.

"Severus!" He snapped. "I am no longer your Professor. Which means I cannot be sacked for doing this.."

Before she could question what, his lips were on hers. Surprisingly they were soft and gentle. She didn't kiss back at first, wondering what she should do. After a few seconds she let her emotions take over and she twisted her hand and grabbed his wrist back - kissing him with more pressure then he had begun with. She tried moving them away from the wall but he had his body now pinned against hers. His free hand moved down to her neck, stroking it and then continued furthur. He let the pad of his thumb move over her nipple and felt an intake of breath. He smiled at this.

He broke their kiss and lifted her hand above her head, turning her around. Her back was now settled against his chest, his hand that held her wrist pushed it against the wall so now they were almost arm distance away from it. His free hand creeped across her stomach and he leaned down and nipped at her ear.

"Hermione.." he breathed. Her own free hand came up and grasped the back of his head and he sucked and kissed the exposed and sensitive flesh of her neck. She gasped when she felt his teeth drag across the same terrain. His hand let go of her wrist, but she didn't remove it from the wall.. instead she pushed her other hand against it, as if holding herself up. Severus let both hands roam over her body, he treaded up her shirt and shivered slightly at the coldness of her skin. Moving up further he held her breasts in each hand as if weighing them, brushing his thumbs over her erect nipples.

Moving them back down he pushed her a bit forward and pushed her legs apart. One hand grasped the side of her neck and the other traced circles on her core through the thin fabric of her pants, just like she had done on his shoulders. He felt her wriggle, and move her hips in the opposite direction, trying to get more out of it. But he would prolong this as far as possible. He wanted this to stretch out.

"Tell me what you want." He nipped again at her ear.

"You," she gasped "I want you, Severus." He groaned at hearing his name leave her lips. His pants grew tighter by the second.

"Say my name again," he added a bit more pressure on his circles.

"Severus," she breathed hard "please, Severus."

He stopped suddenly, and grabbed her wrist again. Turning her back around he kissed her this, opening his mouth and plunging his tounge into hers. He moved them backwards, pulling away only for a moment to mutter the password to his chamber.

Within seconds the clothing was on the floor, the bedsheets following. Just them, naked and filled with desire. He kneeled above her, whispering a protection spell for safty and kissed leaned down, sucking her bottom lip and then kissing his quickly before enterting her fully in one motion. Hermione instantly lifted her hips to greet his enterance and moved back down and up when he didn't thrust again. She leaned up and kissed him with all the passion she could and felt him thrust himself this time, slowly. He kept at a slow pace, she felt as is he was scared of hurting her but Severus wanted this to last forever. He bent his head down, still his pace slow, and grabbed a nipple in his mouth, twirling his tounge around it.She gasped, thrusting up again to meet him.

"Faster, Severus," she moaned "Harder."

"I will do neither."

Hermione had never felt such pleasure in so many years. She felt as if he had opened up a whole new door down there and let out an exploding rush that waited inside for too long. 

As he collaped on her, his hair fell onto her face. The mix of her redish brown and his coal black making what seemed like a peice of art.

"Wow.." was all she could say. "That was.."

"Intoxicating?" He asked, smirking up at her. "Very much so."

Nothing more needed to be said. Severus accio'd the bedsheets and pulled her closer, smelling their act and her cinnomin shampoo, and they quickly dozed off together. Neither of them thought of this as a way to feel something other than what they had been feeling for the last year. They didn't want to believe that this was only a mere distraction for the residue left behind from a war that stole a part of them both.

_You see everything, you see every part. You see all my light, and you love my dark.  
You dig everything of which I'm ashamed, theres not anything to which you can wait but you're still here._

As hermione woke the next morning, she smiled looking over at a very peacful Severus sleeping. She turned her head and swuinted slightly at the open curtain, then sighed with content at the sun pouring through the window.

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AN: Thank you for reading. Review, please. I feed on reviews.


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